Chapter Fifteen: Parenting

Peter

"She's lovely as well," said Kiera who was holding little Catherine in her lap. "Your children are angels." She laughed, gaily, and Peter found that her laugh was infectious. Soon, he was laughing as well, though she hadn't said anything terribly funny. "Do they take after their father in that regard?" she asked.

"No," Peter said, smiling. "It must be their mother's family that makes them so sweet."

Kiera raised a coy eyebrow. "You have met my sister Marna, correct?"

This caused Peter to laugh though he knew that he shouldn't. "Aunt Marna may be a little rough around the edges, but Aunt Kiera has enough grace to make up for it." Peter wondered where he had come up with this – he usually wasn't nearly so smooth.

Apparently, all this talk of aunts had piqued Catherine's interest. "Sometimes Aunt Marna tucks me into bed when Father can't be there," she said. "But sometimes it is Aunt Lucy or Aunt Susan or Uncle Edmund."

Kiera smiled and buried her face in the child's golden curls. "I take it that you like having someone to tuck you in, then," she said.

"Yes. I know that I am supposed to be a big girl, but I like someone to talk to me at the end of the day."

Kiera laughed. "How would you like Aunt Kiera to tuck you in tonight?" she asked.

"You?" Catherine asked, and she thought about this – she could be very grave for a little girl. "Okay, but can Father come too?"

Kiera laughed and winked at Peter. "Of course he can."

Susan

"As beautiful as a pure white dove

And gentle as a flower

She lights my life with her sweet love

And I, in turn, adore her,"

"How was that?" the young man asked her, anxiously.

"Simply dreadful," Susan replied, lightly. "You need to stick to knocking boys off horses with sticks." Quentin was good at jousting, being dramatic and looking pretty, but not much else that Susan could see. He certainly was not the first person to write a poem about Susan, but his poem was likely the worst. Susan felt her face heat up as she imagined the teasing she would endure if Edmund ever heard this particular piece of poetry.

Quentin placed his hand over his heart, dramatically. "My queen has wounded me, greatly," there was general laughter at his posing. "My heart is broken by her cruelty. I think that I shall fling myself from the highest tower in Cair Paravel if she does not make it up to me by allowing me to wear her favor in next week's tournament."

Susan, who knew that he was not even close to as devastated as he pretended, laughed. "Then I am afraid that we shall have to attend your funeral, for, as you know, I have not given any man a favor to wear since I was a young, silly little thing."

Quentin bowed low and kissed her hand. "Then I shall have to work hard to prove myself to the queen of my heart." He smiled at her, but Susan knew that he did not really mean it. When Susan wasn't with her family or attending to manners of state, she was seldom seen with fewer than three men. Countless young knights who had all proclaimed their pure, undying love for Susan at some point.

But it wasn't real. If Susan had asked Quentin to come up to her room, then she knew that it would have greatly upset him. They waited on her, wrote her poems, competed against each other in a number of dangerous games to impress her, gave her presents and generally tried to get Susan to notice them in any way possible, but they were not actually in love with her. It was all a show – courtly love. They were usually about sixteen years old and from rather poor noble families and it was generally understood by everyone that Susan was unattainable.

-- -- --

Ambrosia was splashing about in Susan's bathtub and giggling. "Mummy," she said, in her sweet baby voice, "why are you giving me a bath today?"

Susan tried to make her voice stern. "Because you have been into so many messes lately, that your nurse is tired of cleaning you up."

Ambrosia just laughed and splashed a good deal of water out of the tub. Susan sighed.

"She is quite a handful," Lucy laughed fondly from behind Susan. "How did you get so muddy, Brose?" Lucy and Edmund had taken to shortening Ambrosia's name to "Brose" which Susan hated, but she had given up on trying to correct them.

"Gwain pushed me in the mud," she said, seemingly not bothered at all.

"He did?" Susan exclaimed. "He shouldn't have pushed a little girl in the mud."

"Well," Ambrosia admitted, "I did push him in the mud first."

This caused both the women to laugh. "I afraid that she isn't quite as ladylike as you yet, Su," Lucy said, good-naturedly.

Susan sighed. "I think that turning a three-year-old into a lady is impossible. Just wait till you have one of your own."

Lucy's flinch was only momentary, but Susan caught it. "With my luck that may never happen," she said, lightly. "I shall be Brose's maiden auntie forever, shan't I dear?" she said, giving Ambrosia a wide which Susan's daughter returned. "Soon, I'll be too old to get married.

"Don't say that, Lucy," said Susan, troubled. It was absurd. "You're still very young, for goodness sakes." Susan was the one who was divorced with two children, after all. Susan was the one who no one would ever want again. "Besides, you are a queen of Narnia. Peter could have you engaged to a dozen different men by tomorrow, if you like."

"I don't want just anyone," Lucy said. "And I don't want someone who only wants me because I'm Queen Lucy."

"I know," Susan sighed. "You want love and romance and all that, don't you? Take my advice. Don't get so caught up in that sort of thing that you end up marrying an idiot like I did. Look for someone steady and sweet."

Edmund

Edmund was sitting out in the garden with his wife and children. He was holding little Gareth in his arms and Gwain was wandering around, picking up twigs and leafs and flowers and laying them in Edmund's lap or Marna's lap.

Gwain picked a bug up off the ground and brought it to Edmund. "Daddy, what is this?"

"I believe that is a beetle," Edmund told him.

Beside him, he felt Marna jump. "Ew. Edmund, take it away from him."

Edmund laughed. "Why? He's fine."

"It's going to bite him or pinch him," Marna said, edging away from her son as he tried to offer the beetle to her.

Edmund grinned. He wouldn't have expected Marna to have such a girl-like reaction to insects. She was usually so unlike a girl. "I don't think it's that type of insect," he told her.

"Then he'll swallow it," she said.

"He's old enough to know better."

"He's three, Edmund," Marna said, glaring at him.

"Fine," Edmund sighed. "Gwain, give the beetle to Daddy." Gwain handed it over and Edmund brought his hand up to his face very quickly and pretended to pop the beetle in his mouth and swallow it. Gwain giggled with delight and even Marna laughed.

Once Gwain wandered a few steps away – likely looking for something disgusting for his father to "eat" – Marna turned to Edmund. "You're very good with them, you know," she said, thoughtfully. "They love you. You are all that Gwain can talk about," Edmund winced a bit at this. "And when you are in Cair, you spend as much time with them as I do."

"Well," Edmund replied, after a long, awkward pause. "I guess I'm just making up for when they are older and I won't get to spend very much time with them."

Marna cocked her head to the side and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Why wouldn't you be able to spend time with them when they are older?"

Edmund sighed and shifted the baby in his lap. "I've decided – I mean, I don't want them to end up like me. Not desiring women, I mean," he shrugged. "So … it is probably better that I keep my distance, don't you think?"

Marna looked at him for a long time. "That is the stupidest thing that you have ever said in you life," she said, finally.

"It is not!" Edmund exclaimed.

"I didn't know that you were planning on abandoning our children as soon as they are old enough to remember you."

He should have known that she would overreact. "I'm not going to abandon them," Edmund objected, shifting uncomfortably, "I'm just going to not be around them quite as much."

Marna crossed her arms. Edmund could tell that she was not pleased. At all. "What about me?" she asked, defensively. "I'm not exactly a perfect little lady. Should they stay away from my corrupting influence as well?" Her tone had become very sarcastic. "What if they get the idea that it is acceptable for girls to kiss girls and boys to kiss boys."

Edmund rolled his eyes. "You are a woman. They are boys. Sons. If we'd had daughters …" Edmund stopped because of the look that Marna was giving him. If he had went on, he had a feeling that he would have been smacked.

"If we'd had daughters then what?" she asked. "I hope that you aren't suggesting that you'd try to keep me away from my children."

That hit a sore spot. "Why not? I have a son that I've never even seen."

"You aren't even going to pay attention to the ones you've got here," Marna shot back.

Edmund took several deep breaths, trying not to lose his temper any further. "Let's not argue about hypothetical daughters and things we cannot change. I'm just … I want to always be there for them. But I also want to be a good father."

Marna started to say something, but Edmund didn't let her.

"You know that it is hard," he said. "I mean, I know that you don't believe it is immoral to be the way that we are, but it makes life a lot more difficult. Do you really want them to go through everything that you and I have been through?"

Marna reached down and picked Gwain up. "I don't think that just being around you is going to make them desire men."

Edmund shrugged. "Maybe not. But it could."

Marna sighed. "I guess that it could," she admitted, finally.

Lucy

Edmund caught up with her as she was coming back from archery practice.

"You are getting pretty good, you know," he said. "If Su doesn't practice more, then you'll be better than her soon."

"I prefer swordplay," Lucy said to him, a bit out of breath.

"As do I," Edmund said. "You know, it is funny. Peter cannot decide whether to be furious with you for running away or proud of you for how you handled yourself on the front."

Lucy grinned. "I know." Then she frowned. "I really shouldn't have left without telling you and the others. That was selfish. Were you very worried?"

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Of course we were worried. It's a war. But you did leave a note, I suppose. Peter almost sent out search party to fetch you back until I pointed out that this wouldn't exactly send out the most encouraging message to our subjects."

Lucy sighed. "I was silly."

Edmund was quiet for some time. "A letter came for you today. From Roydon," he said the name in the type of voice that people used to tease girls about boys that they fancied. Lucy winced. Edmund looked at her. "I know that girls like to play coy, but don't you think it is time that you wrote him back? This is at least the third letter he has sent you since you got back."

Lucy did what she had done the other two times. She adopted a light-hearted attitude. "I want nothing more to do with him," she said.

But later, when she was alone in her room, Lucy read the letter and then crumpled it in her hand. He wanted her back. She sighed and curled up in her bed. Lucy knew that she should write to him now, but she couldn't bare the thought of them being stuck with one another for the rest of their lives when he didn't love her and worse, she knew that he didn't love her.

Lucy sat up and slipped out of her dress, uncomfortable. After a while, she looked down at her own form. What was she going to do?

-- -- --

Lucy was having breakfast with her brothers and sister. Or rather, she was pushing fruit around on her plate. She didn't much feel like eating. The other were talking, animatedly, but Lucy had barely said a word.

"Lucy," Susan said to her, finally. "You aren't planning on wearing that to the ceremony this afternoon, are you? What happened to that purple dress with the silk?"

"It doesn't fit anymore," Lucy said, her eyes still upon her plate. "Most of my dresses don't. This one was comfortable." She had been dropping hints like this for at least a week, but nobody ever seemed to notice anything amiss.

"You need to stop eating so much bacon," Susan said, looking down at Lucy's plate. She then went back to talking to Peter.

Edmund, however, was looking her up and down and his mouth was slowly drooping further and further open. Well, he was always the one who caught on the quickest. His spoon fell out of his hand and clattered on as it hit his plate. "Fuck!" he exclaimed loudly.

Peter and Susan both stopped talking and looked at him. "Ed!" Susan said. "Language."

Edmund ignored them both, still looking at Lucy. Lucy could feel herself turning red and she looked away. "Fuck," Edmund said again. He pointed his finger at Lucy. "She's – she's --" he turned toward back toward her, "you're – you're --" he seemed to realize that perhaps he shouldn't give her away and his mouth snapped shut, abruptly.

"I'm pregnant," Lucy said, sounding as firm as she could.

There was a moment of dead silence and then everyone was talking at once, very loudly, and Lucy couldn't make out anything that was said. After awhile Peter yelled out, "Quiet, quiet!" and they all stopped talking.

"You're pregnant?" he asked her, disbelievingly, but before she could reply he asked, "Who's the father?"

Lucy shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't --" Peter's stopped, his face turned red and Lucy could tell that he was trying very hard not to yell.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know you're upset."

Susan reached forward and brushed a slip of hair out of Lucy's face. "Is the father Roydon?" she asked. "Surely, it must be."

Lucy sighed. "No," she said. Lucy hardly ever told lies and the result was that on the rare occasion that she did and did so firmly, people tended to believe her. She knew that as soon as she gave a name, the others would start trying to talk her into marrying him and she couldn't marry Roydon. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well," Peter said, quietly, "you'll have to get married. If you don't want the father, then I suppose that we will have to find someone else. As you are having a baby," he winced as though it pained him to say it, "your options will be limited, but there must be someone who would be willing to marry a queen of Narnia."

"No," Lucy shook her head, adamantly, "I don't want to marry some man who only wants me because I'm Queen Lucy."

"She isn't all that likely to get a good type that way, Peter," Susan put in.

"I know she isn't," Peter snapped. "But she doesn't have any other choice."

Susan put a calming hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes girls who can't get married go off to the country somewhere to have their babies in secret. Maybe she would rather do that."

"No!" Lucy said, indignantly.

"She would never be able to see her baby that way," Peter objected.

"Well," Susan reasoned, "she wouldn't be able to see it as often as if she married and kept it near her, but it's not as though she couldn't make visits."

"What about – I mean don't women sometimes take some sort of drug or potion," said Edmund, who had been quiet until this point. "To – you know – get rid of it?"

They all looked at him in shocked horror.

"Are you mad?" Peter asked.

"What?" Edmund said defensively. "I wasn't the one telling her that she had to marry some idiot or hide herself away in a cave for the next year."

"Enough," Lucy said, waving her hands. "It's too late for that sort of thing and anyway, I'm not going to do any of those things. I'm going to just have it and keep it."

They were all silent for a moment. Then Susan gave her a consoling look. "Lucy, you have to realize that you can't do that. You can't have a baby without being married. It simply isn't done."

"Why not?" Edmund asked. "You have babies and you're not married."

"I'm divorced," Susan snapped.

"You have to realize," Peter said, looking Lucy in the eye for the first time, "that you are not a normal person. You are a queen. You have obligations. What will we tell our subjects?"

"The Narnian creatures love Lucy so much that they'll stand by her no matter what," said Edmund, who now appeared to be on her side. "They don't care as much about things like marriage and being proper, anyway. The humans will just have to get used to it. They don't make up the greater share of the population anyway."

"And you are fine with people knowing that the baby was conceived when you weren't married?" Susan asked. "You know that there are people who would say absolutely horrid things about you, don't you dear? They'd call you names. And I know that you aren't used to being called names like that."

"They are going to know anyway," Edmund told her. "If she does what you or Peter suggests. If she marries – well, most people can count. If she hides she'd probably have a better chance of not being found out, but I think it would happen anyway. If she were a man, she might be able to keep a baby secret, but as she's a women it is not likely."

"Suspecting, even strongly suspecting is not knowing," Susan pointed out.

"Hold on a minute," said Peter who had been thinking. "What did you mean earlier when you said 'it is too late for that sort of thing'? How far along are you?"

Lucy winced and didn't answer for a good long time. She looked out the window. "Five months, approaching six."

"Six months," Peter said, loudly.

"Why didn't you tell us before now?" Edmund asked. "It isn't as though waiting would make anything better."

Lucy thought about this for a moment. Why hadn't she told them? "I guess – I guess that I wasn't sure what I was going to do yet and I didn't want everyone else to decide for me. But now I am sure. I know that it will be hard, but I don't know what else to do. I can't picture myself wanting to give up the baby once it is born and I've held it and all that. I can't marry the father – it just wouldn't be right. I won't marry anyone else."

Peter crossed his arms. "So you don't need our advice, at all? You are just telling us what you are going to do and we'll have to like it."

Lucy bit her lip. "I suppose so," she said, in wonderment, for this was the first time that she had realized this herself.

-- -- --

Later, when Lucy was in her room, sitting at her window seat, Susan found her. "Lucy," Susan said, sitting down beside her. "How are you feeling?"

Lucy sighed and picked at her dress. "Not so good. Peter hates me."

Susan put her arm around her sister. "He doesn't hate you. Why? Did he say something to you?"

Lucy bit her lip. "No. But did you see the look on his face? I know that you must have talked to him after I left. What did he say?"

Lucy watched Susan's face fall and saw the look that her sister adopted when she was trying to think of the most tactful way to phrase something. "He does hate me," Lucy said, and for the first time, her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, no! No, no, no," Susan said. "You've always been his favorite, you know --"

"Until now," Lucy said, trying very hard not to cry.

"Let me finish!" Susan exclaimed. "You've always been his favorite, but he's always watched after all of us because he's the eldest. I know a bit about what that is like because I had to take care of you and Edmund, but Peter has always born the brunt of the responsibility. You understand that?"

Lucy nodded.

"Well, you were always – good," Susan went on. "You were good little Lucy and he never thought that he would have to save you from yourself the way that he is always trying to do with Edmund and I. So now, I think he is angry with himself because he wasn't paying enough attention and let you run off to some battle and then – well – this. Don't be surprised if he watches you with hawk's eyes from now on."

Lucy frowned. She had seen the way that Peter would question Edmund and Susan. Where were you? Who were you with? Questions almost everyday, all done with the smallest of frowns that meant abject disapproval. Lucy didn't like the thought that she was about to get a taste of it. Of course, she wasn't planning on sneaking strange men up to her room as Susan had been apt to do at one time.

"Lu," Susan said, filling in the silence, "you know that there are certain potions that a woman can take to keep from getting pregnant. I could have showed you which ones. Why did you not come to me? I wouldn't have been angry?"

Lucy sighed, thinking back on that one night with Roydon and feeling miserable. "It was a – er – rather spontaneous event," she could feel herself blushing. "It wasn't as though I was planning for it to happen."

"Oh, I see," Susan said. "That happens to a lot of girls, but you should be more careful. Do you mean to say that it was only one time, though?"

Lucy groaned and threw her head back in frustration. "Yes," she said. "How many girls get pregnant during the first time? I must be the unluckiest woman alive!"

Susan actually smiled. "I think you will feel differently when your baby takes it's first steps. If you are almost six months, then we need to start having clothes made. And arrangements for the birthing. And a cradle. And --" Susan was off, making such a dizzying array of suggestions and chores that Lucy could barely keep up.